Protector (9 page)

Rex hit the deck by the pool just as Chuck rounded the corner. Alone. Jolynn must have gone to her exclusive suite, obviously nowhere near the more bare-bones accommodations where the staff lived.

The deck was sparsely populated, most everyone else having turned in for the night. Waves lapped a rhythmic tune. A couple made out by the rail. An older guy lounged in a deck chair sneaking a smoke, his cigar glowing in the night. A cleaning crew mopped the deck in sections while a bartender shut down his station for the night, lining up bottles and emptying ice buckets. The pool glowed with a submerged purple light, giving it an eerie cast.

It should be safe enough to pretend to ask Chuck for directions since his shirt bore the
Fortuna
staff logo.

“Excuse me?” he called out to Chuck, stopping beside a stone fountain with a goddess pouring water into the pool. “Could you help me out with some directions?”

Chuck’s head snapped up, his eyes sharpening fast. Reassuring to see. He glanced over his shoulder and walked to Rex by the fountain. “Sure, where do you need to go?”

By now, they stood near enough to each other and the fountain, far away from the stray night owls. “What happened tonight? The sound went out.”

A generic enough statement if anyone happened to overhear, but Chuck would understand full well what he meant.

“Sorry, but I don’t have an answer for you. I was out walking with a friend.”

Walking with Jolynn Taylor. “Nice night for that.”

“A very wise nun once told me that spending time with a woman is always a good idea.”

Rex studied him through narrowed eyes, ready to press him for more when a sound from across the deck shut him down. He glanced over his shoulder quickly to find a drunken woman— the contessa— stumbling toward an upper deck with her boy toy. Rex waited for them to pass before lowering his voice.

“Well, we need to win this one,” he said softly while gesturing to a freestanding map of the ship so it would look as if he were discussing the directions. “And make sure you keep us in the loop next time. I don’t like losing contact.”

Chuck nodded once, then turned away. His steps were slow and even. Rex watched for any signs of physical stress or strain. Chuck’s body had taken such a beating, his recovery was nothing short of a miracle. But the fact remained, he couldn’t fly any longer due to a burst eardrum. Further, injury to his spine put him at risk for paralysis in ejection seats or parachuting. He had so many pins in his body he would set off metal detectors in airports.

What the hell had he been thinking insisting he put himself back into the line of fire this way?

Watching the door close behind Chuck, Rex stuffed his fists into his pockets. Damn. His hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t dodge the truth.

He hadn’t rushed to see Chuck to make sure the man was alive, to be sure the captain still had his edge.

Rex was making sure he hadn’t lost his own.

*  *  *

Hugging her knees, she sat in the damp grass at the edge of her father’s garden, peering around a bush sculpted to
look like a battle horse. She’d been waiting for her dad, hoping to have some time with him on her own. Since her mother died, all he ever did was work.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute against the sting. She was twelve years old, for Pete’s sake. Too big to whine like a baby because her dad was too busy for her. Pissed off at him and herself, she pitched a big fat rock at the Venus de Milo fountain a dozen feet away. Her father collected all those stone statues of big-breasted women like his own personal harem. She started to throw another stone at the legendary beauty when—

A noise startled her. She dropped the stone beside her, and looked again. Anticipation eased the ache in her chest… But it was just Uncle Simon. Rats.

Uncle Simon was with two men in dark suits, and boy, were they all mad at each other. They were pushing and shoving each other past a circle of iron benches and chairs until they stopped beside the fountain. She pressed her back to the leafy horse’s leg and searched for a way to sneak away without them noticing.

A shot popped through the air.

She jerked, her eyes snapping back to the sound. Back to the three men. Back to her uncle. She bit her hand to hold back a scream. Horror, however, bubbled inside her until she could swear it was in her sweat.

Blood oozed from a single bullet wound behind his ear. One man caught him on the way down, staggering against the fountain. The other man, the one with the gun, tucked it under his jacket as he turned. Toward her.

Panic bit harder than the prickly branch slicing into her hand as she scrambled backward. The gun guy in a black suit stared. Straight. At. Her. And she knew him.

She knew Charles Tomas…

Jolting awake, Jolynn rolled off the edge of her bed and hit the floor. Hard.

“Damn it!” She grabbed her elbow, the charley horse stabbing pain through her.

Charley horse? Even her aches linked up to Charles after only a couple of days on the ship together. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the shadowy suite, the first rays of morning sun casting a minute orange glow through her balcony window.

She’d spent the past two days on the cruise ship visiting with her father and ignoring Charles. And it hadn’t done her one damn bit of good. The man invaded even her dreams. Intellectually, she knew he wasn’t there the afternoon Uncle Simon had been shot behind the ear, execution style, but the eerie horror of her dream wasn’t so easy to shake.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she padded barefoot past her circular bed perched into her sitting area. A deep rose, red, and bronze color scheme bathed the stateroom with a fire-and-brimstone decadence.

God, her dream was making her melodramatic. Used to working sixty-hour weeks, she really had too much time on her hands. Marseilles had come and gone, and they were set to drop anchor in Sardinia today, but she’d visited the ports countless times in the past on one of her father’s earlier ships, and sightseeing alone held little allure.

She needed something to fill her mind with anything other than worries for her dad. And thoughts of Charles. She needed to be more insistent with Lucy about helping out with office affairs while her dad was under the weather. She had an accounting degree after all. Surely it wouldn’t sound out of the realm of possibility that she would offer— and it would give her a great chance to snoop.

And digging around in her father’s files would prove
much more productive than just standing around on a balcony, the water below reminding her of her midnight walk with Charles.

Jolynn pulled a bottled fruit juice from the small refrigerator tucked under the counter next to the minibar and twisted the top off. Her great plan for peace wasn’t working out. Staring out the balcony window at the endless ocean, she rolled the cool bottle between her hands. There wasn’t much she could do about her relationship with her father during this cruise other than hang out for a bedside vigil and fluff his pillow.

But when it came to Charles Tomas, ignoring wasn’t working out for her. Her hands slowed… She frowned, looking harder at the balcony.

And the masked man staring back through the window at her.

Jolynn screamed.

She wasn’t hiding in topiaries these days. She shouted at the top of her lungs while running for a phone. A knife from the kitchenette would be a welcome bonus. And never once did she take her eyes off the black-clad figure on her balcony. A man. At least she thought it was a man, lean, tall, agile. And masked.

Whoever it was reached for the sliding door.

Her hands shaking, she jabbed the number for the operator.

Ring.

Ring.

Pick up, damn it.

The ringing stopped. “
Fortuna
hospitality, how—”

“Jolynn Taylor. Someone’s breaking into my stateroom,” she gasped.

The door slid open. She grappled behind her, her hand closing on the coffeepot. He stepped inside. Screaming, she
ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room. She dropped the phone. Grabbed for whatever her hands landed on. A lamp. A book. Her purse. And she screamed. God, how she screamed.

Her door rattled from the outside and the man stopped in his tracks.

She raced to unlock the door. “I’m in here. Help!”

As she fumbled with the lock, she kept expecting a hand to land on her shoulder. A force to grab her from behind.

The door swung open. Lucy stood on the other side with a key card and a hulking big guy. He charged past her and Jolynn spun to see the dark-clad man swing over the balcony— and disappear.

Arms slid around her and she jerked instinctively before she realized. It was just Lucy comforting her.

“It’s okay,” her cousin chanted, hugging her hard. “Adolpho will take care of everything.”

Jolynn glanced back fast at the hulking man with a thick mop of dark hair. Adolpho— her cousin’s fiancé— leaned over the balcony, looking down where the intruder had disappeared. She sagged back against Lucy, her cousin’s French perfume radiating off her.

God, she’d come on this cruise to regain control of her world, only to have it unravel all the faster.

*  *  *

Chuck lounged on the low brick wall that encircled a lobby fountain. His laptop computer was open beside him, a legal pad on his knee, pencil in hand as if he needed to make some notes.

Between sips of coffee, he typed, the screen filled with what appeared to be college course work— macro-econ. The student cover story provided a great excuse to justify his
computer time. In actuality, he was sorting through some repeating number sequences that Berg had come across from select slot machines. He hadn’t known what to make of them and passed them on to Chuck for another set of eyes. Working in plain sight could sometimes make the best cover while passengers headed out for a day in Sardinia.

If he parked himself out here long enough, he figured his path would cross with Jolynn’ s— as per the colonel’s command.

He’d been surprised to see her at the casino the day after their kiss by the river. But true to her word, she was sticking around. Although she’d done her best to stay out of his way and it chapped his hide to think he’d blown a possible lead.

Every time a piece of her clunky jewelry sparkled in the casino lights, he’d reminded himself he was better off— she was better off— staying away. Except he didn’t have the luxury of ignoring her back.

He stared into the depths of the casino lobby fountain being replenished by Venus de Milo. He could still call to mind the pert tilt of Jolynn’s nose, the unexpected wide innocence of her green eyes. Her image seemed to ripple in the watery fountain.

His body tensed until the lead point snapped against the paper. He pitched the pencil into the shimmering pool. The mental picture of Jolynn shattered into a band of expanding circlets.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Her mirrored face converged in the water.

Damn.

He glanced at his laptop to gather his thoughts, but he wasn’t any more successful than he’d been figuring out what a bunch of numbers from slot machines meant.

That’s what he got for not being straight up about what
happened back in Genoa. Just past his laptop, he saw crimson toenails peeking from sandals. Elegant arches seemed to beg his fingers to wrap around them.

He would have to focus on his job soon enough, so Chuck allowed himself the momentary pleasure of gazing all the way up her incredible length of leg. Her sleek body was equally appealing, and then, to his surprise, he found a smile on her face.

Chuck closed his laptop. “So you’re done with the silent treatment.”

“Seems rather juvenile.” Her nose tipped a touch higher with a defensive air, file folder with
Fortuna
logo clutched to her chest. Her face was pale, but gorgeous as ever.

“That it does.” He drummed his thumbs on his laptop.

Confusion flickered through her eyes before she looked down at his mouth. Awareness of that out-of-control kiss snapped between them, memories of how close he’d come to saying to hell with it all and sinking to the ground, ocean pounding against the shore while he gave in to the need pounding through his veins.

Jolynn cleared her throat, her smile steadying again. “Should I relieve you of any further weaponry?”

Chuck stilled. He carefully set aside his laptop, buying himself time to think. “Pardon?”

“Are you planning to toss any more lethal pencils my way?”

Relief coursed through him. “Nope. The rest of the lead arsenal is stored safely in my backpack.”

Given the assorted security equipment in his computer, strapped to his leg, and sometimes tucked in his ear, Chuck took heart in knowing he wasn’t really lying. His career field necessitated a hefty dose of subterfuge over the years. He tried to stick to the truth whenever possible.

She grinned again, more relaxed and genuine this time, her lips plump and shiny with gloss. “I wish you weren’t so funny.”